


Snap Out of It

by Chrome_Affogato



Category: Soul Eater
Genre: Awkward Romance, Domestic Fluff, F/M, Pining, Post-Canon, Sickfic, Songfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-09
Updated: 2021-01-09
Packaged: 2021-03-13 02:48:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,297
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28646298
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chrome_Affogato/pseuds/Chrome_Affogato
Summary: Soul vowed to wait until he was certain his meister was ready for something more. He didn’t expect just how maddening it would be in the long run. (Or the many times Soul waited patiently, and the other times when he just wanted to grab her shoulders and spill everything).
Relationships: Maka Albarn/Soul Eater Evans
Comments: 11
Kudos: 73





	Snap Out of It

**Author's Note:**

> Post-canon. Inspired by the song “Snap Out of It” by Arctic Monkeys.  
> Many thanks to inklizard for humoring me and making this a readable piece of work.

Soul 'Eater' Evans liked to think he was a cool guy (which he is, for sure). Cool guys had everything under control, knew what they were doing, and what they needed to do. So when he came to terms with his feelings for a certain feisty green-eyed meister one blissfully normal afternoon, he liked to think he knew what must be done: exactly what cool guys would do — wait.

He couldn’t say for certain when it happened, only that he had come to the eventual realization that his dedication to Maka went far beyond a weapon doing his duty to his meister. Maka was his best friend, first and foremost. The years and experience of battles, bickering, and quieter moments he had spent with her bespoke of a friendship full of trust he would not trade for anything. He had always valued the platonic relationship they’ve had.

It surprised him (no, not really), years later, to find that he had started seeing her as more than a meister and friend. And what did he decide to do with this realization?

Nothing.

Well, maybe not _nothing_ , but when the object of your affection had a front seat on the trainwreck of romance that was her parents’, it seemed only reasonable to tread that emotional territory with as much caution as one would trying to cross a minefield. He knew how much that affected Maka’s perception on that kind of relationship.

But Soul had faith in her. Maka was strong — so much stronger than she gave herself credit for — and he believed that the bond his heart yearned for was not an impossible dream. If he were to be honest, they’d only gotten closer after the defeat of Asura. They had been so close to losing each other after all, so once the battle was won and wounds were patched up, Soul knew it was time to stop hesitating.

He was a cool guy, but not like the younger version of himself who balked at the mere suggestion of even liking his meister. He liked to think he had grown out of that phase already. So when Liz had teasingly asked them one laid-back morning if he and Maka were spending Valentine’s day alone together, younger Soul would have scoffed and laughed at the implication in an over-exaggerated manner. The new Soul just smirked at Liz.

“Wouldn’t have it any other way.”

He tried to focus on the way Liz’s teasing expression morphed to a huge grin, but while he did not have the ability to read souls like his partner did, he could almost feel the way Maka’s soul fluttered warmly against his own in a resonance they had somewhat been subconsciously maintaining.

“ _Idiot,_ ” was all Maka gave him, along with a half-hearted punch to his side. He’d also gladly take the sight of her cheeks dusted with an adorable pink.

He could have said more —could have taken a leap of faith then and there— but he held his tongue.

With how Maka kept that smile the entire day, Soul could not find it in himself to be greedy.

* * *

_I wanna grab both your shoulders and shake, baby_ _  
__Snap out of i_ _t_

* * *

Patience, Soul thought, was a virtue he thought he had mastered.

Sitting next to a tense Maka, who had grabbed his hand in a death grip as they watched some horror flick, Soul started to doubt just how much longer he could stop himself from closing the distance between them —both physically and emotionally. He had vowed to wait until he felt that Maka was open to that sort of change after all, but that did not mean he couldn’t try to take it to that level slowly. It was only the two of them, without Black☆Star, Kid, and the others, in the cinema, and it was just how Soul wanted it to be. Not that they had never gone to the movies by themselves before, but he could not help but hope that this would be different.

That Maka could feel how much he wanted to hug her, and maybe — just maybe — receive _something_ from her as well. An indication. A sign. Anything that could tell him it was not simply wishful thinking that made him see that there could be _something_ between them.

“Oi Maka, you’re crushing my hand!” Soul hissed quietly, wondering how in Death’s name his headstrong meister was so on edge over an over-the-top horror film when she had gone head to head with Fear personified and won. She never so much as flinched whenever she faced freakish kishin eggs. If anything, Maka would jump into the fray before Soul could even breathe the word “plan.”

Green eyes shifted to glare at red, her grip loosening a fraction. “Whose fault is it that we have to watch this anyway?” she challenged.

“Uh, yours?” Soul quirked an eyebrow, his mouth stretching to a lopsided smirk that showcased his sharp teeth. “You were the one who picked this, don’t look at me like that.”

If that was a blush streaking through Maka Albarn’s face, Soul would not be able to confirm in the darkness of the movie theater. Her hand moved from his, climbing to grab at his bicep as she leaned close. Soul did his best to keep eye contact and ignore how near her lips were to his. He would have thought she was about to kiss him if it were not for the way she was shaking his arm with agitation.

“I did not want to hear you whine for an hour if we went with the other option!”

“And we both know you’d rather watch crap with more thrill. You get bored with romance,” Soul retorted with amusement.

It was not that he was trying to follow the movie date cliché of picking something scary just so his “date” would cling to him or anything. Hell, he never imagined Maka would do something like that, so he was not sure what to make of her actions right now.

“Something romantic wouldn’t be so bad,” he heard Maka murmur as she let go of his arm.

His breath hitched and blood roared in his ears.

Maka must have felt him tense as she looked at him, eyes widening. He wondered vaguely if perhaps his (platonic?) partner somehow figured out why his heart was trying to beat its way out of his body. He couldn’t even bring himself to speak, afraid of shattering the moment as he waited for her, watching the way she opened her mouth as if she had something important to say.

She hesitated. And he knew it.

“Tsubaki would have enjoyed it. She’s such a romantic,” was all she said.

Soul only smiled softly.

“Yeah.”

* * *

Maka had always been professional when it came to close moments between Soul and her. She was never shy, no hesitation in the way she would casually yank Soul’s shirt up to check his injuries after battles that left them bloody and bruised. Granted, it was easy not to worry about boundaries when they barely survived some fights, and the urge to make sure that they had both come out of it in one piece far overpowering the need to be embarrassed about revealing themselves. Growing up in a school that taught students how to fight evil creatures and risk their lives at a young age, they were bound to have to mature sooner.

But Soul had always been hyper-aware of things, especially when he had enough space to overanalyze.

Maka had no boundaries when it came to him.

They had been partners and flatmates for years; they would find assurance in the gentle squeeze of their hands before a fight, friendship in the way he would playfully rub her head when she’s lost in thought, and comfort in particularly dark nights when they would not comment on the bags under the other’s eyes, falling instead in a hug as if it were the most natural thing to do. Those, among others, were the kind of physical contact they did that Soul used to not think much on. It felt right and he never questioned it.

The downside of having gotten so used to it, on the other hand, was that he could not be sure of their meaning now that he had a new feeling in the equation. When your heart yearned for a sign that the object of your affection felt the same, you are bound to try and see if there was more to something they did or said, after all.

Which was why, when Maka pressed her palm against his cheek, gazing up at him with warmth in her eyes, Soul did his best not to second-guess what it was all about.

_Ah, fuck. What did I do to deserve this?_

“You’re burning up,” was her flat statement after moving her hand from his sweaty forehead.

“’M fine,” Soul grumbled, trying not to be obvious that he was all but ready to collapse on their couch. He settled on acting annoyed so he had an excuse to plop on his ass. “We gotta go soon.”

Maka’s steely gaze watched him in a way that told him there was no getting out of it.

She suddenly sat next to him and, placing her hands on both sides of his face without hesitation, gently made him face her. Smoothing his hair out of his face, Maka leaned in to press her forehead against his, leaving only a breath of space between them and _Death the fucking Kid,_ this weapon was going to die as melted demon steel in his meister’s own hands.

After a second which felt like forever to him, the blonde pulled back and declared: “You’re not going anywhere.”

Soul would have found that sweet considering her hands were still on his face and she was looking at him with such blatant concern, it made him feel just about to ready to combust.

“We—” He cleared his throat, willing his voice not to break. “We have to go. We’re supposed to provide back up… for Black☆Star.”

“No. You’re in no state to fight,” she responded firmly.

“But I already took medicine. I’m sure it would have kicked in by the time we arrive,” he defended.

“No,” Maka repeated in a tone that left no space for argument. “You’re staying here. With me. Besides”—She picked up her phone, presumably to contact the blue-haired assassin—“Black☆Star can handle himself. Tsubaki is with him. And I honestly doubt he really needed any help.”

The young deathscythe pursed his lips, frustrated with having been caught sick. Stupid Maka and her attentiveness to him, which definitely did _not_ make him feel giddy at all. How uncool.

He wanted to protest more but his throat felt like the desert, so he settled on glaring at his partner because he was that stubborn and he was not going down without a fight— even if this staring match was all the fight he could manage.

And damn, he picked the wrong fight because he should have known his beautiful little meister was the reigning Queen of Stubbornness.

“Just lie down, Soul,” she said with surprising gentleness.

He did so— or at least he tried to—and managed to imitate a depressed slug with how he attempted to slide himself to recline on the couch. He hadn’t realized how heavy his body felt, and he was starting to feel pretty stupid when Maka leaned over him, her chest hovering near his face as she cradled his head with one hand and supported his body with the other to ease him in a more comfortable lying position.

She stood back to inspect her handiwork as if she had not just teased and manhandled him at the same time.

_Here lies Soul Eater, who died valiantly in the face of Maka Albarn’s lack of personal boundaries._

“Comfortable?”

He managed a weak nod as he struggled to remember how to breathe again. Come to think of it, he was feeling stuffy. Ah, right. He was in his travel clothes, complete with the leather jacket. Soul lifted his hand, intending to shed the thick clothing, but of course his body thought it was the perfect time to give him the middle finger.

Maka seemed to have realized what he wanted to do for she reached for his jacket and proceeded to tug it off of him.

Soul would have retorted something snarky but the fever was taking a lot from him.

Apparently, Maka wanted to take more from him as he groggily watched her hands discard his jacket and begin to unbuckle his belt—

“HOLY FUCK, MAKA!”

The silver-headed weapon yelped, certain that he would have catapulted off of the couch if his body didn’t feel like lead.

He should never underestimate this petite girl, because Maka’s little stunt was more than enough to resurrect his voice.

The little minx had the audacity to look at him as if he had gone crazy.

“What? I’m trying to help you change into something more comfortable!”

Soul could feel his face burning red as he gripped the edge of his pants protectively. “You don’t have to go that far!”

She only rolled her eyes before standing up and moving away, hiding a similar blush that her partner didn’t see. “Fine. I’ll be in the kitchen if you need me.”

He groaned as his hands fell limply on his sides. She was going to be the death of him.

The rest of the day passed by in a haze as Soul drifted in and out of sleep. He vaguely remembered a damp cloth cooling his forehead after small hands gingerly lifted his head up. There was a dip on the couch before he felt the back of his head rest against something soft.

He thought he recalled deep green eyes watching him through a curtain of ash blonde hair, but it was hard to be sure of anything when his mind was swimming so much.

_Beautiful,_ he thought. Or did he say that out loud? He could not find it in himself to care at the moment, heavy eyes falling shut.

In spite of his feverish delirium, he was almost certain he did not imagine the soft pressure of something small pressing against his forehead as Maka’s hair tickled his face.

_Was that a get-well-soon friendly kiss or a let-me-take-care-of-you-for-the-rest-of-our-lives kind of kiss?_ he wondered distantly before sleep took him.

* * *

_What's been happening in your world?_ _  
__What have you been up to?_ _  
__I heard that you fell in love, or near enough_ _  
__I gotta tell you the truth_

* * *

Soul was going crazy, and he didn’t even need any black blood to get there. Maka and a strange red rose in a vase were plenty enough.

It had been three days and Maka was still behaving weirdly. She would avoid his eyes and when he tried to ask what was up, she would get flustered and change the topic. He didn’t want to push since she looked uncomfortable, but after having caught her staring at that weird rose with a fond smile on her face a few times now, Soul couldn’t stop the nasty feeling rising from his gut.

He glared at his meister’s door, knowing full well the offending plant was in that room. It would be unreasonable to try to interrogate the inanimate object but he was at his wit’s end and that prospect seemed a lot more productive than trying to coax an explanation out of the scythe meister.

A red rose, seriously? The implication was so obvious. Someone had given _his_ partner a gift with romantic intentions, and Maka seemed to understand that. But what Soul wanted to know was… from whom?

Who was worthy enough that she would put it in the only vase they had in the apartment and keep it securely in her own room? And what did _he_ have to do with any of it, considering she was behaving so oddly around him?

The death weapon choked on air as a thought struck him. Could it be?

Had Maka found someone she loved? And she knew of Soul’s feelings but did not know how to let him down because it wasn’t him that she wanted to be with? Was he wrong? Had he misinterpreted her feelings this whole time? Did he see something that was never really there to begin with? Shit, he felt sick.

_Get a fucking grip, Soul._ He mentally slapped himself. He was falling in a spiral and he needed answers ASAP.

As if heaven heard his prayer and decided to send an angel in response, Maka tapped him on the shoulder, looking somewhat bashful, much to Soul’s befuddlement.

“Soul, can we talk?”

He stared at her for a minute before managing a nonchalant shrug, gathering all the coolness left in his body and praying it did not betray his racing mind and shaking knees. His meister went around the couch to sit next to him and Soul tried not to overthink the distance she had placed between them. Sitting up properly to place his hands over his definitely not quaking knees, he watched her worry her lip —a look Soul knew to mean she was carefully choosing her words— as he waited for her to speak.

“About the rose—”

“Maka, there’s something—”

They blinked at each other, having spoken at the same time, before Maka let out an uncharacteristically dainty giggle that left Soul a mix of feelings.

“Okay go ahead. Something…?” she prompted, smiling timidly and cluelessly sending Soul’s mind on overdrive because _what the heck has gotten into Maka??_

He gulped with effort, unconsciously drumming his fingers against his thigh as he fought to find the words.

“I want to tell you that I _care_ about you— I mean, I know you already know that, right? Unless if you didn’t then now you know. Because it’s important to me that you know that I care a lot about you…” The albino trailed off, realizing how he had been rambling. His meister was looking very amused, but there was a noticeable pink dusting her cheeks.

Taking a deep breath, Soul tried again.

“I care about you, and I value this”—he gestured wildly at the air between them—“this partnership that we have above everything. And I don’t want to ruin that, Maka. So please trust me, and if you need _anything_ at all”—he grew bold enough to take her hands in his, eager to make her understand because he was so afraid of what she was going to say, and he had to let her know how desperately he needed her in his life, even if she had already chosen someone she wanted to romantically be with—“I will always be here for you.”

With pleading eyes, he met her deep green ones and was taken aback by how watery they were.

“Oh, Soul…” She withdrew her hands from his to cover her face, and it felt like Black Star had punched him in the gut because _oh no this is it, she’s crying because she doesn’t want to let her best friend down and hurt me._

Suddenly, Maka was throwing her arms around him and he held her on instinct as she sniffled against his chest. “I feel the same, you dummy!”

What?

She must have sensed his bewilderment and finally looked at him, red-faced. “I feel the same,” she repeated softly before grabbing a pillow and slapping it against his face. “Geez, don’t make me say it! You’re the doofus for coming up with something so cheesy and leaving a rose in my bag.”

He continued to sit mutely, his mind attempting to wrap around Maka’s words while squinting at a smudge on the wall as if it held the explanation he had been seeking. He thought he heard her yell something about fancy dinner before she closed her bedroom door, utterly unaware of Soul’s short-circuiting brain. Finally, he managed to conjure a single coherent thought:

“ _WHAT??”_

* * *

He was dead. So very dead.

How was he going to explain everything? With Maka all dressed up and smiling at him like that, how was he supposed to admit it was one big _misunderstanding_? She had been so vibrant, bubbly, and _clingy_ ever since his “confession” the other day, and while Soul was definitely over the moon to know that she felt the same and he _really_ wasn’t being a deluded idiot, there was a nagging guilt gnawing in his stomach knowing that it wasn’t exactly intended as the proper confession he’d been waiting to do for years.

He said he was going to wait for her, but he never expected she would be making the first move —no thanks to something he had nothing to do with at all!

She would probably feel so mortified, murdering him would be the only way for the whole thing to be forgotten.

_“All’s well that ends well?”_ a part of his mind whispered. Why would it matter how they got there in the first place, when the bottom line was they actually felt the same way towards each other? They were together and happy now. Why stress about something that was already in the past? They didn’t have to talk about it, right?

_“Who are you kidding, it’s disgusting and I feel like a liar. It feels so wrong to keep secrets from the person who trusts me the most,”_ another part of his brain parried.

_Fuck it, I’m going to tell her._

It was then that Maka noticed him staring. She blushed a little, but she more than enough confidence to smirk and send him a flirty wink.

He was so screwed.

* * *

When Maka came home late one day barreling through the door like a bull on a quest to decimate, Soul knew his time had come.

Or rather, his time to clear up the misunderstanding had run out.

“Is it true?!” Her eyes burned with fury but he could sense there was something more underneath.

Was it hurt? Disappointment?

“Is it all some sick prank you thought would be funny??” she asked angrily, tears pooling in her eyes. “You were… you were being so sweet to me before everything. You really had me going, giving me mixed signals and confusing feelings and— and argh!”

The scythe stood up and made to reach for her. She stepped back, hands protectively held against her chest as she avoided contact. He’d be lying if he said it didn’t sting.

“Maka, let me explain…” he said before coming to the sinking realization that he did not know how to start.

Maka rubbed her arm furiously over her eyes, one hand clutched so hard on her top her knuckles turned white.

It was all his fault.

“The truth is… It wasn’t me who gave you the rose. I really don’t know who it came from.” The way she seemed to recoil as if bracing for him to say he felt differently made his heart wrench so he hurried on. “It was never from me. And I am so sorry for not clearing that up with you because I was—” He hesitated. He never thought this was how his confession would go but it was now or never. “…I was scared. But if there is one thing I’m certain of, it’s that my feelings and all the things I’ve done—I mean it. I always have.”

Her expression melted from angry to confused, and as she processed his words, her eyes widened in astonishment. “You mean…?”

He gave her a small, genuine smile and that seemed to speak enough. She hiccuped, hands flying back to her face as fresh waves of tears flooded out. This time she was the one to come to him, her head leaning against his chest and he instinctively wrapped his arms around her.

“You are such an _idiot_ ,”she managed to say, beginning to giggle in spite of the tears. “Why not just say you’re awkward about all this _feelings_ stuff?”

“Am not,” he replied with a pout. They had gotten this far so he might as well spill everything. “I really do feel that way a-about you.” He could almost feel her smirk against his chest but he ventured on. “I told myself I’d wait until you’re ready. That’s why I didn’t say anything. I never wanted to put you on the spot…”

Maka said nothing, and while she was normally like a loud, open book, it was hard to tell what she was thinking with her silence and her face out of his view.

_Is it too soon?_ he thought to himself, anxiety filling his veins like ice the longer Maka stayed quiet.

“Soul,” she finally said. Their eyes met and Soul had to swallow thickly at how intense her gaze was. “I repeat: You are an _idiot_.”

Suddenly she was on her tiptoes, lips against his for a brief moment before she pulled back to watch his rapidly reddening face.

“In case it’s not obvious, I am ready.” She teased, but he could see the undeniable blush on her cheeks as well. Even her soul seemed to whisper to him: “ _I_ have _been ready for you.”_

“Oh,” he replied intelligently.

“Thank you for waiting for though, Soul,” she added shyly. “So… How about you treat me to something that would definitely not be a misunderstanding this time?”

* * *

“We never did find out who gave me that rose.”

“Does it even _matter_ now?”

“Someone’s jealous.”

“Hell no.”

“To be fair, they are kind of the catalyst to you finally confessing. So you owe them in a way.”

“...You kinda confessed first though.”

“SOUL!”


End file.
